


Ragtag

by showmethebeefy



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Donut Celebrating His Birthday, Found Family, Gen, Red Team Being Silly, RvB Fluff Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:31:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/showmethebeefy/pseuds/showmethebeefy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes all it takes is alcohol and a little forced hugging to procure some warm familial feelings. It's Donut's birthday, and Sarge is drunk off his ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ragtag

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Burning_Nightingale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Nightingale/gifts).



> this is a one shot for RvB Fluff Week. written for darthrevaan.tumblr.com   
> prompt: Red Team acting like a found family somehow :)  
> unbetaed, so sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors  
> not sure when this takes place in the show. sort of ambiguous.  
> this was a lot of fun to write, hope you enjoy!

Sarge is drunk, that's for sure. It's a rare occurrence, but it happens. Sarge usually views all hours as work hours, or hours when they've gotta be fighting them dirty Blues, but there's the occasional exception, this being one of them. This being Donut's birthday. Everyone's scattered around the mess hall at base in their civvies, eating and laughing and arguing, as they are wont to do, and Sarge is drinking like a fish and yelling half-coherent things in a slurring voice.

"Y'all boys're tha closes' thing ah got t' family," he declares to Grif at one point in the evening, his breath reeking from a mouth too close for comfort, his fingers gripping one of Grif's arms, his already strong accent made mostly indecipherable by his drunken slurring.

Grif isn't exactly about to admit it, but it gives him a warm feeling deep in his gut when Sarge says that. Sure, he's got Kaikaina, but this is his family too. Sarge is saying other things, but they're mostly mumbles and stretched out vowel sounds, and Grif isn't about to dedicate his evening to translating Sarge's drunk-ese to English. There's far too much food to consume, and far too many opportunities to provoke Simmons, in that order of priority, and Sarge falls lower on the list of Grif's priorities than most things. Sarge proceeds to wrap his arms around Grif's shoulders and continues babbling drunkenly about family and "you boys" and other shit Grif can't understand, and suddenly detaching Sarge from his body becomes a priority, because he's limiting Grif's range of motion and how is he supposed to eat all the cake if he can't move his damn arms?

"Get off, Sarge!" he exclaims, his voice pitched high with frustration. He struggles, but Sarge's arms are like muscly bars of steel. "Simmons!" Grif yells, voice cracking. "Simmons! Help!?" It kills him to alert Simmons to this scenario, but he doesn't exactly want Donut helping him, as that always leads to something incredibly uncomfortable, and he doesn't speak Spanish so he can't ask Lopez. Not that Lopez would help anyway. What's a guy supposed to do, call the Blues? No, Simmons is the choice to go with here.

"What?" Simmons snaps, sure this is some stupid, obstinate thing Grif wants to say to him. At least, until he turns around and sees Sarge, face red and drunk, clamped to Grif, who looks supremely uncomfortable. There's a flicker of jealousy in Simmons' mind— _that should be him and not Grif_ —but it's quickly overridden by vindictive amusement at Grif's predicament. He laughs, just to see Grif's face go red, and pulls out his camera to document this moment for posterity. Grif is positively purple in the face. It gives Simmons immense satisfaction. Grif is like a brother—like way more than a brother, if Simmons is being honest—to him, and he takes great pleasure in driving him crazy.

"Help!?" Grif says again, his voice positively squeaky with a potent cocktail of embarrassment, frustration, and pleading. "Please, Simmons? He won't stop talking about how much he loves us! And he smells awful! It's gross!" Grif heaves again, but Sarge's viselike grip doesn't falter. Simmons chuckles again, and then goes to help Grif. He briefly considers asking Donut, but it's the man's birthday, and he's been singing karaoke to the entire _Legally Blonde: the Musical_ soundtrack for the past hour, and Simmons isn't about to stop Donut from singing all the parts to 'Gay or European' on his special day. He deserves this.

Nevertheless, as Simmons' and Grif's efforts prove fruitless and loud, Donut eventually snaps out of his showtune reverie and trots over to the three of them. Sarge has somehow managed to wrap his steely arms around the both of them, and he still won't shut up about how much he loves all of his boys.

"What's going on here, boys?" Donut asks, his voice impossibly clear and peppy after a straight hour of singing and gyrating his hips in a way that makes everyone uncomfortable.

"Sarge is drunk," Grif says in a voice that sounds resigned to his fate.

"Apparently we're the closest thing he has to family," Simmons says, somehow sounding simultaneously annoyed and flattered.

"Awww!" Donut says, clutching his hands to his chest. "That's so sweet! I love all you guys too!" And instead of helping, he swoops in and envelops all of them in a loving hug, adding an extra layer to the viselike grip. It's sweaty and uncomfortable and all too close together and it's utterly Red Team.

"Lopez!" Sarge howls from the middle of the hug/arm trap. "Ge' o'er here! Ah love you toooo!" And with a metallic sigh and mutter in Spanish, Lopez stalks his robot ass over to the rest of them and wraps cold, metallic arms around the lot of them.

It took a series of bizarre events to even bring them all together, but here they are now, in a hug pile in the mess hall, inseparable both because of Sarge's copious arm muscles, and because, though some of them may not be willing to admit it aloud, they love each other more than anyone else in the whole wide fucked up world. They're a stupid little ragtag family, and who else can claim a bond like the one they have?


End file.
